Death as a Last Resort (20 page)

He felt a little worried when the silver car turned onto the highway, as he knew he wouldn't have a chance of keeping Mahaffy in sight if he opened up that powerful engine. “Where the hell's he going?” Then it dawned on him. “He's going through the Deas Island Tunnel. He's heading for the city!”

• • •

MAGGIE STOOD WELL BACK in the wet grass and peered up at the attic window. “Definitely a light of some kind,” she muttered. “We've got to find a way in before Mahaffy turns up.” But she was talking to herself, because her willing helper had disappeared up the back stairs.

“Door is locked,” Henny commented when Maggie caught up with her. “We will break the window glass?” But that was easier said than done, as the sash windows on the ground floor were tightly closed and pieces of plywood had been nailed across each of them.

“We need some kind of tool. What about that lean-to?” Using the flashlight, Maggie saw that it was half-filled with weathered boards, and on the wall were hung a few garden implements including a rusty axe. Several tins of nails came tumbling down as Maggie felt along a plank shelf in the semi-darkness. “Drat.” The two of them froze in their tracks and waited for a few minutes, but the eerie silence continued. Finally, Henny took the axe and Maggie armed herself with a long-handled hoe. “Let's tackle that window by the back door,” Maggie whispered.

They soon realized that the window was too high off the ground, and even Henny, who was at least six inches taller than Maggie, couldn't get a good enough swing with the axe to smash through the plywood.

“Give me the flashlight and you wait here, Mrs. Maggie, while I go look for something to stand on.”

“We've got to hurry. Mahaffy's likely to turn up any minute.” But she realized that she was talking to herself again as Henny had disappeared into the dark, and the only sound was lumber and implements tumbling to the ground. She was about to feel her way back to the lean-to when Henny reappeared empty-handed.

“You didn't find anything?”

Taking Maggie by the arm, Henny propelled her further along the back wall and around the corner, where she pointed the flashlight at a flight of stairs leading to a glassed-in porch. When Henny swung her axe at one of the porch windows, the noise seemed to vibrate all around them. Maggie quickly put her hand over Henny's to wait for repercussions, but the only thing they had disturbed was a dog further down the road. It took Maggie several minutes to remove enough glass with her gloved hand so that she could reach inside and unlatch the door.

“I haff the light,” Henny said and led the way inside. But even though Maggie walked close behind Henny's bulk, she still got her fair share of cobwebs, and she became convinced that there were monster spiders clinging to her face and hair. Henny's light was now all but useless, and with their arms outstretched to feel their way, they stumbled over pails, bumped into a wringer washer and various other bits of furniture, boxes and heaven knows what. Finally Maggie, patting her way along the wall, located a light switch, and the single bulb hanging from the ceiling not only revealed the accumulated junk they had ploughed through but also showed them a glass-paned door that led into the main part of the house. Once again Henny wielded her axe.

• • •

NAT MADE SURE THAT he was well back from the silver Jag before they entered the tunnel, so it was just sheer luck that he noticed Liam Mahaffy's car veer off the freeway and onto the Steveston Highway exit. Nat followed the Jag in the distance until he saw it stop outside a corner convenience store. By the time Nat caught up, Mahaffy was outside the store in a telephone booth, talking animatedly on the phone.

Driving past the store, Nat eased into a spot further down the dark road to wait and watch in his rear-view mirror. Ten minutes went by before he saw Mahaffy hurrying back to his car. The Jag made a U-turn and headed back the way it had come. Nat waited a few minutes, made a U-turn with his lights off and followed the Jag. He was just in time to see the silver car turn back onto the highway, heading north once more.

The chase was on again!

• • •

AS MAGGIE REACHED FOR the light in the kitchen, she hoped that the shuttered window would do its job—but the choice was either to turn on the light or risk having an accident as they stumbled around in the dark. A door at the far side of the kitchen led to a hall and a staircase leading upward.

“We've got to make this quick,” Maggie commanded as she bounded up the threadbare carpeted stairs. “If Nancy's here, then Mahaffy's not far behind.”

Henny, still carrying her axe, gasped as she tried to keep up with her boss. It took several precious moments to peek in each of the four rooms on the second floor and then tear up the last flight leading to the attic. Maggie banged on the door. “Nancy?”

“I'm in here,” Nancy yelled through the attic door. “But the door's locked.”

“Of course it is,” Maggie muttered, relief mixed with the inevitable irritation she felt towards Nat's ex-wife.

Henny marched purposefully toward the door with her axe. “Stand back,” she yelled.

“Where's Nat?” was the first thing that Nancy demanded as the door crashed open.

Maggie looked at Nat's ex-wife and realized that it was a good thing the woman couldn't see herself in a mirror. Tears mixed with old mascara and dirt had streaked down her face, the usually beautifully coiffed blonde hair was tangled and the borrowed sweatsuit did little to enhance her figure. “He's out looking for you,” she answered tersely. “Come on, let's get out of here. Lead the way, Henny.”

The three of them raced down the stairs and back through the porch, with Maggie carefully extinguishing the lights one by one as they went. They flew across the plank bridge and Henny unceremoniously pushed Nancy into the back seat of the Morris before flinging herself in beside Maggie. Gunning the engine, Maggie drove down the dark road, turned onto No. 5 Road, and headed for the city.

• • •

EVENTUALY, MAHAFFY TURNED OFF the freeway again onto Westminster Highway, negotiated a complicated series of turns to get onto No. 5 Road, and then within minutes made a right onto a narrow gravel road. Nat sensed they must be nearing the end of their journey. He pulled to the side of No. 5 Road just short of the intersection. Call it luck or intuition that made him wait a few minutes before following on foot, but as he went to open his door to step out, another car passed him and turned the corner. This time Nat climbed cautiously from his car and walked to the corner, grateful that there were no streetlights on this part of the island. Both cars were now parked with their lights on halfway down the narrow road, and Mahaffy and the other driver were standing beside them, talking. Then suddenly, the car lights went off, a flashlight came on, and Nat watched it bobbing off into the darkness.

He waited until the beam from the flashlight vanished, presumably behind a house, before venturing down the road.

Just as he reached the two cars, the clouds parted and a shaft of moonlight showed him a plank bridge. He crossed it as quietly as possible, followed a muddy path and climbed the steps to the front door. Just his luck! It was boarded up, as were the windows on either side. By this time the moon had disappeared again, and he had to feel his way back down the stairs, cursing under his breath, and work his way toward the corner of the house. As he rounded the corner, he could see that there were lights on inside, and he was halfway up the stairs leading to a glassed-in porch when he heard the yells of rage coming from above.

“There's no way she could escape!”

“Didn't you tie her up?”

“No, but the door was locked, and . . .”

Nat didn't wait to hear any more. Grinning, he ran down the stairs and ducked into a tool shed he saw nearby. Moments later, Mahaffy and the other man came running out of the house, heading for their cars. Nat waited until all was quiet again before he emerged and in the utter blackness of the night made his way back around the side of the house and sprinted for the road. In his haste, he had forgotten that the plank bridge was narrow and slimy. The ditch he landed in was half full with muddy water from the recent rainstorm. The air was blue with his muttered curses as, soaking wet from his knees down, he had to haul himself out by clinging to the course clumps of weeds and grass that grew on the bank.

Half an hour later, Nat's car was parked outside Maggie's house and he was opening the front door with his key. Maggie and Nancy were seated at the kitchen table with drinks in front of them. Without a word, he picked up the bottle of cognac and poured himself a liberal drink.

“You're all wet,” Maggie said, rising in alarm. Nat was sodden from the waist down.

“I fell in the bloody ditch,” he said before knocking back half of his drink.

“You'd better go upstairs and change,” Maggie commented. “You'll find your clean shirt in my closet. I'll put some hot coffee on.”

“That's cosy,” Nancy said, raising her eyebrows as she watched Nat ascend up the stairs.

On his return, Nat immediately pulled up a chair and turned to his very bedraggled ex-wife.

“Okay! Fill me in.”

After their individual night's experiences had been discussed, Maggie asked the most important question. “What do we do now?” She glanced at the dishevelled Nancy. “I think you should take Nancy home so that she can get some clothes and her car.”

“What if they're waiting for me there?” Nancy whimpered.

“There's a chance they won't think you'd go back to your own place,” Maggie answered. “But you should go right away and get your stuff as quickly as you can. Have you a friend you can go to?”

“I could stay at your place, Nat.”

“That's the first place those thugs will look,” Maggie said, thinking that Nat was welcome to his ex-wife, but there was absolutely no way the woman was going to stay with her.

“What about that aunt of yours . . . the one who lives in New Westminster?” Nat asked.

“Aunt Marian? But it's too late to call her now.”

“Try,”
Maggie snapped, pointing to the phone. “Tell her the power's off at your place or something.”

Nancy reluctantly took the phone and dialed. The conversation was short, but the aunt agreed that her niece could stay until the power was restored. “She said that she was just about to go to bed,” Nancy said as she replaced the receiver, “but she'd leave the door unlocked.”

“Okay. So let's get going,” Nat said, getting out of his chair.

“You can borrow one of my coats.” Maggie reached into the hall closet and pulled out a grey wool coat with a hood. “Nat can bring it back later.” She opened the front door and watched the two get into Nat's car and pull away from the curb.

Quickly rinsing the cups and glasses, she shooed Oscar and Emily out and waited apprehensively for them to return. After they were safely in again, she made sure that all the doors and windows were firmly locked before climbing the stairs to find comfort in her own warm bed. She hoped they made it before Mahaffy and friends decided to go back to Nancy's house to check. And then another thought came as she snuggled down.

Should we have called George in on this?

But she was beyond worrying anymore. She'd talk to Nat about that in the morning. She hoped that Henny had managed to think up a good excuse for being home so late, but she wasn't too worried, as Henny seemed to run the Vandermeer household, her husband Dirk, and her two sons exactly the same way as she did the agency office.

The telephone woke her. She turned on the light and checked the time. Two thirty. Nat's voice, a pleasant interruption to her dreams.

“Thought you'd like to know she is safely stowed with her aunt. See you in the morning and sweet dreams—if that's at all possible.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I
t had forgotten to rain, and Maggie awoke to a bright, sunny Saturday morning. As she lay on her back and stretched her arms above her head, the previous night's adventures came rushing back to her.
Nat said there was another man at the farmhouse with Mahaffy and that he was the one doing the shouting. But he didn't recognize the man's voice. So that lets out Henry Smith with his Cockney accent. And the same goes for Bakhash. Could've been Edgeworthy, I suppose . . . but I can't see him as the head honcho.

When the phone rang, she contemplated not answering it, but on the third ring, she gently pushed the sleeping Emily over to the other side of the bed and swung her feet to the floor. It was Nat to say that he'd filled George in on last night's episode and he wanted to meet with them in a couple of hour's time.

“Here?” Maggie asked, thinking that it would take more than an hour to tidy up her house for company.

“At the office.”

“I'll be there as soon as possible.”

“Okay. I'm going to call Henny and ask her to come in, too.”

She pushed her rebellious thoughts away as she snuggled her feet into her slippers and walked downstairs to be greeted by Oscar. “I have to have my cuppa, Oscar, before I even think about a walk. Will the backyard do you?” What she really needed was a good hot shower and breakfast, she thought as she closed the back door on the dog. Her last meal had been a sandwich at her desk the day before.

• • •

NAT AND HENNY WERE waiting for her when she arrived at the office, and their Girl Friday didn't look any the worse for the previous night's activity. In fact, she was quite chirpy.

“Hope Dirk wasn't mad at me for keeping you out so late?” Maggie asked, peeling off her coat.

“He was worried, but I told him you needed me.”

“And Pieter? Is he any better?”

“Ja! It is a bad cold. His brother, Bartel, has it now.” She marched toward Nat's office, carrying two cups of coffee. “Mr. Nat ask me to bring your coffee in his office.”